


The Cage Bet

by stanchezsloppyseconds



Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: M/M, Mention of sex, but nothing overly nsfw involved, it's kinda cramped, just mild sexual frustration, the die in a cage bet origin story, two men stuck in a dog cage together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-25 16:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9830630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stanchezsloppyseconds/pseuds/stanchezsloppyseconds
Summary: “If I die in a cage I lose a bet” - Rick Sanchez





	

Waking up was like trying to slice himself out of a thick cake with a chopstick. His senses felt sluggish and dulled as he tried to uncurl from the uncomfortable angle he was twisted in only to find he was stuck between the familiar weight of another body and the confinement of what seemed to be a metal fencing. Groggy unfocused eyes opened to confirm that yes, he was indeed stuck inside what appeared to be a re-enforced dog cage, along with a still unconscious, Stanley Pines who was notably rather heavy on top of Rick’s pinned leg. It certainly wasn’t the first time Rick had woken to the disorienting feeling of someone having spiked his drink, but this was perhaps the first time it had resulted in finding himself in a cage trapped in the back of a moving van.  


He strained to recall what had happened prior to his current situation. They had been in a local dive guzzling the cheapest beer their crooked money could buy. It had been a celebration for a big sale but Rick couldn’t recall what they’d sold. After getting decently sloshed they’d slipped off to the bathroom to duck into a stall for a bit of impromptu privacy. That must have been when the drugs got slipped into the drinks that were refilled and waiting for them upon their return. The bartender had claimed a cute blonde had bought them the round, but Rick was now more inclined, given where he’d woken up, to think it may have actually been those two goons that had been giving them disapproving looks all evening. Rick had at the time simply assumed they were the usual homophobic Cro-Magnons, annoyed and perhaps a bit jealous of how he’d drunkenly teased his boyfriend with flirtatious banter and intimate touches until Stan had nearly carried Rick off to the bathroom he’d been so eager for it. Rick loved getting under his partner’s skin enough to drive him up the wall, but plenty of onlookers usually were less approving of their relationship. Those two goons however, in retrospect, had stunk of a very distinct Russian mob motif… and oh… he remembered now…

It had been the fake rug. They’d sold a fake tiger skin rug to some hot shot mobster for an obscene amount of money. Stan had spent a couple days sewing it together till it looked convincingly enough at a glance to be the large cat they’d claimed it to be. Rick supposed their client wasn’t thrilled when he’d realized that the stripes were painted on and the fur was actually muskrat.

The brown boot that was inches away from his face twitched as Stan started to stir. Rick squirmed as much as the cage would allow him to in order to avoid getting a mouthful of shoe.

“Ffuckin heell-” Stan groaned, his voice slurred from drowsiness. He tried to sit up but was pinned halfway beneath Rick and only succeeded in banging his head against the top wiring of the cage. “Shiit- Rick? Where the ff- are we in a dog cage? Look just ‘cause I agreed to wear that collar sometimes, doesn’t mean you can take advantage of me being shitfaced to do some weird kink shit in a fucking kennel-”

“Good ma-morning to you t-too sunshine” Rick crooned with disdain, “Hate to disappoint but thi-this wasn’t my idea of a good time.” Although, now that Stan had mentioned it, he may have just made a mental note for another day.

Stan’s face dropped as the car lurched over a bump and he noticed for the first time that the cage they were crammed in was inside a rather blood stained and tinted windowed vehicle. Rick could practically read the accounts of the previous night on his partner’s face as Stan remembered them.

“We are so dead.” Stan muttered as he leaned his head back against the cage.

“Dying in a cage? That-that might be your sta-style Pines, but I plan to get out of here.” Rick scoffed as his eyes darted around the confines of the van.

“Oh yeah? Wanna bet?” Stan muttered, the words almost a habitual slip.

“Su-sure, why not?” Rick shrugged with disinterest. He usually didn’t take up bets with Stan anymore after enough lost cash, cigarettes, chocolate bars, drinks, and that one really good porn mag, but he was already working on an escape plan so he felt the odds were likely more in his favour for once. Stan seemed a little surprised he’d agreed and paused for a moment before offering his terms for the bet.

“My cut of the last job- that you’re gonna die in a cage.“ That was a hefty share of cash by their low standards, and currently almost every penny left to Stan’s many false names.

"Fine.” With a shrug Rick agreed “Eeeh-either of us dies in a cage the dead one pays up their savings to-to the winner.”

“Deal.” Stan grunted with a grim smirk as he shifted just enough to roughly ram his shoulder into the back of the cage, trying to test if he could break it. The metal confinement lurched but wasn’t going to give that easily. He tried again anyways. After several minutes of squirming and tossing his weight against the cage Stan had successfully dented a few of the bars. He’d also exhausted himself and succeeded in being a very effective sweaty, panting, and writhing distraction.

“Would you-you cut that out?” Rick growled frustrated, “It’s hard to concentrate on an escape p-pl-plan with your crotch rubbing up a-against mine.”

“You got any better ideas, genius?” Stan asked with a defiantly playful thrust of his hips just to torment Rick further.

For a moment Stan smugly thought he’d caught his usually frighteningly brilliant companion stumped as Rick’s thick unibrow cocked quizzically at him with a sharp glare. Then the lanky man snaked his arms out from under the tangle of their limbs, his slender fingers dismantling the top of the cage like it was nothing as the walls fell out around them.

“What how- you knew how to get out that whole time didn’t you? No wonder you were so willing to wager.” Stan gawked as they pulled away from each other and stretched their aching limbs.

“Fig-figured the cage out a couple minutes ago. It’s retrieving my teleporter gun, likely from the bozo driving, so we can get-get out of this van that’s gone-gonna be the ff-fun part.” Rick scoffed as he shook the pins and needles out of his legs. “Though seeing aaas neither of us is gonna die in that cage- guh-guess no one wins the bet- eeh?”

“Never said the bet was that you’d die in that cage. Just a cage.” Stan shrugged as he glanced at the small locked and blacked out window that presumably led to the front half of the van. Pulling off his shirt he wrapped it around his fist, “Bet is still on. You can be an old man for all I care. My money is on you kicking the bucket in a cage.”

Rick flinched slightly as the glass cracked under the first blow and then shattered when Stan punched it a second time.

“What the hell?” A muffled yelp came from the front of the vehicle as Stan reached his arm through and grabbed the driver’s throat. The van swerved and Rick nearly lost his footing but within a moment Stan was somehow tossing him his teleporter.

“Now get us outta here fast Sanchez.” Stan remarked as he shook the glass from his shirt and pulled it back on.

The van came to a screeching halt, but by the time the back doors were opened all that was left was a flash of green light and a broken cage.


End file.
